When Elxidor and Olaster entered again, the mood in the tent was jovial. The rest of the group eagerly ate the warm food Olaster had promised. The servants had brought several bowls of hearty porridge and a couple of loaves of bread before hurriedly retreating. The food had been eagerly passed around and was now being devoured with great enthusiasm.
The mood quieted as the two newcomers re-entered. Upon seeing their expressions, though, the group regained its enthusiasm. It was apparent that the two had reconciled their argument, and now we're just glad to share their company.
For the remainder of their meal, they discussed what the future would hold. "There is only one way out of the valley, Olaster explained, we know it as the Cave of Trials. In our long history, the cave has always been avoided except by the bravest of souls, for it is said that once inside, there is no going back. You must see your passage to its conclusion or else perish.
"What is the conclusion?" Carric asked. "Have none returned? Couldn't you backtrack the way you had come if you ran into trouble?"
"Unfortunately, it is impossible," Olaster explained. "No one knows the details, but you will see when you reach the cave. As for knowing the conclusion, as you might have guessed, if none ever return, there is no way of knowing what the conclusion is."
Morrah cut in. "As poetic as that sounds, it is hardly helpful. How are we supposed to know if we'll have enough supplies if no one knows how long the road is?"
The old eladrin simply shrugged. "You must have faith. If the path is impassible, then why would it exist?"
The response hardly comforted Morrah. It was as helpless an answer as their situation was. There was nothing to go on other than faith? It's not like she was a priest. What was she supposed to do with faith?
"I think it will all work out," Nizèl cut in, with his maddening asurity. The dragonborn elaborated. "We happened upon Elxidor by accident. One might say we found him on a whim."
"Then, after days of searching, exhausting every other known location, he brought us here, on a whim."
Now, with few options available to us once more, and the long nights of winter growing even longer, we are left with only one option. Not a sensible option, but rather a desperate one. The kind of option that can only be taken... on a whim."
"I think it was meant to be," Nizèl concluded, frustrating Morrah even more, who just sat opposite him, shaking her head.
Hardly able to argue the point, the others stayed quiet, staring at their empty bowls and the few scattered crumbs that lay on the table.
"Well," the elderly elf interjected, "I think it's about time for you all to get some rest. As your friend suggests, the nights are long this time of year, so you should have plenty of time before the morning, but it would be wise to get an early start. To be safe, you should reach the cave before first light, and it is quite a distance from here."
Elxidor nodded, knowing the way, and the two shared a quick embrace, knowing that the party's departure in several hours would come all too soon. Olaster seemed torn, unsure of how to feel. Eventually, they were all forced to retire, though, unable to delay the sweet call of sleep any longer. Everyone lay down, wrapping themselves in the abundant furs that littered the tent, and one by one, they drifted into peaceful slumber. It was the first restful night since they had arrived on the plane.
Elxidor would be the first to rise nearly eight hours later, a lengthy rest for an eladrin, but he had been sleep deprived for weeks before this, so it made up for it. Carric would rise shortly after in a similar fashion, and only Morrah and Nizèl seemed to struggle with the effort. They each gathered their things as quietly as they could manage and were prepared to leave within a few minutes.
There was an air of unease about them all, the jitters that one gets before setting off on a lengthy journey, but in this case, it was much more poignant. The fear of an uncertain future lingered over all of them. They weren't sure if they would ever find their way out of the cavern they were destined for, and that reality showed clearly on their faces.
Eventually, Elxidor gestured for them to get on their way. Taking one last look at the figure still wrapped in a pile of furs on the other side of the room. Carric stopped him, shocked that the elf would leave on such a journey and not say a final goodbye to his own father. Elxidor smiled in response. "We have already made our peace; there is no need to sour this departure with tears of grief. He will understand. Likely that is why he still lies in rest." Unconvinced, the wizard held his ground, eyeing Elxidor skeptically.
The eladrin relented, guessing correctly that Carric did not buy his excuse. "There is another reason." He explained. "Come, follow me outside."
Elxidor led them out of the tent, the crisp, cold air of the plane biting against their faces as they stepped across the threshold. He walked over to the caldera once more, regarding the sword.
Once the others were all gathered, he began. "This is the sun blade. It was once wielded by a great and noble warrior of our people. The most noble in fact and most powerful. The same one who rules over us now, though you would never guess, having seen what he has done in the time since those days.
Back then, he went by another name, the Sun Prince, the progenitor of the first spring and a guiding light throughout all of the Feywilds. This noble warrior, however, would eventually fall from grace. When he did so, he relinquished his title as the Sun Prince and became the Pale Prince, or as he is more commonly known, the Prince of Frost.
When that fall came about, the prince drove his sword into this rock in this obscure place in the deep wilderness of our land. In doing so, he created the landmark you see here. This sword represents the anguish of my people and the promise of another age, one that is long gone.
Among those who still remember, it is said that this sword can not be removed from the rock in which it now resides. It is rumored that only the prince may draw it, and that the day will come when he will throw off the shackles that he has made for himself and once again resume his title as the Sun Prince.
"So why are you making a point to tell us all this?" Carric cut in. "And why did you really decide not to wake your father?"
Elxidor looked at the sword again, before placing his hand around its hilt, and letting it rest contemplatively. "Because there is a secret. Known only to a handful among our kind. When I say that this sword cannot be removed from the rock, what I mean is that it is forbidden to do so."
With that, he fluidly, almost lazily, pulled the sword from the stone. As it came free, it made a quiet ringing sound that echoed across the plane with a near-silent but resounding reverberation. The sensation left as soon as it had arrived, but not before the group shared a collective shudder, none overly comfortable with what had just transpired.
Elxidor held the blade aloft, examining it closely from hilt to tip. After he had finished his inspection, he pulled out a canvas cloth from his pack and began wrapping the weapon, tying it up with some loose string.
"There is something else I know that few others do among my people," Elxidor continued. "In all the millennia that have passed since the prince forsook his responsibilities, he has never once visited this place. He will likely never even notice that the sword was taken, and none among my people will dare to tell him."
With the certainty of youth and the fire of purpose in his eyes, the elf turned on his heels and started walking out of the camp.
The others followed him shortly after, perhaps impressed, but certainly shaken. It was encouraging to know that such conviction resided in this eladrin's heart, but concerning, too. He may have just painted a target on their backs. One thing was certain: they couldn't wait to get off the plane and into this cavern. At least then, they could do away with this constant feeling of being watched that had followed them relentlessly ever since they came to this place.
As the party walked off into the distance, there was indeed a set of eyes watching them, but they were old and kindly eyes, watching from behind a half-drawn tent flap, and a smile of approval was fixed below those eyes.
